Joona Linna Crime Series Books 1-3: The Hypnotist, The Nightmare, The Fire Witness

And yet that’s what Simone saw.

It can’t be Josef Ek who has taken his son. Yes, he just made the case for it, but it’s impossible.

With a feeling that everything around him is becoming completely unmanageable, he sits down at his battered desk and calls the same people over and over and over again, as if he can tell from some nuance in their voices whether they might have overlooked some detail, whether they are lying or keeping information from him. He calls Aida three times in succession, asking first if she knows if Benjamin had any particular plans for the weekend, then if she has the phone numbers of his friends, the third time if she and Benjamin have had a fight. Her voice quavers on the other end of the phone when she answers, and Erik suddenly realises she’s just a kid, overwhelmed by the fierceness of his questioning and, in her own way, by Benjamin’s absence. Protectively, he gives her all the numbers where he can be reached and establishes that she hasn’t seen Benjamin since school yesterday. Then he begins calling the police. He asks what’s happening, whether they’re making any progress. He calls every hospital in the Stockholm area. He hears himself saying, in his most authoritative doctorly voice, “He has von Willebrand’s disease, but he may not be carrying his alert card from the emergency blood service. I’d recommend screening all unidentified adolescent male admittees for the disease.” He calls Benjamin’s mobile, which is switched off, for the tenth time. He calls Joona’s phone, demanding loudly that the police intensify the search. Joona must insist on more resources. Finally, he begs him to do his utmost.

Erik returns to Simone’s room but stops outside. He places a hand on the wall to steady himself; things have begun to spin, and he can feel something tightening around him. His brain is struggling to comprehend what is happening. Within, he can hear a constant refrain: I’m going to find Benjamin, I’m going to find Benjamin.

When he feels steadier, Erik looks at his wife through the pane of glass in the door. She is awake, but her face is tired and confused, her lips are pale, and the dark circles around her eyes have deepened. Her strawberry-blonde hair is messy with sweat. She is turning her wedding ring around, twisting it and pressing it against the knuckle. Erik runs a hand over his face and feels the rough stubble. Simone looks back at him, but her expression doesn’t change.

Erik goes in and sits heavily by her side. She glances at him, then lowers her eyes. He sees her lips draw back in a painful grimace. A few fat tears well up in her eyes, and her nose reddens with weeping.

“Benjamin tried to grab hold of me; he reached out for my hand,” she whispers. “But I just lay there. I couldn’t move.”

“I’ve just found out that Josef Ek ran away last night.” Erik’s voice is weak.

“I’m so cold,” she whispers, but she knocks his hand away when he tries to tuck the pale blue hospital blanket around her. “Don’t,” she says. “It’s your fault. You were so fucking desperate to hypnotise him—”

“Simone, I was trying to save someone’s life. This is not my fault. It’s my job.”

“But what about your son? Doesn’t he count?” Erik reaches for her, but she pushes him away. “I’m going to call my father,” she says, her voice unsteady. “He’ll help me find Benjamin.”

“I really don’t want you to do that,” says Erik.

“To be honest, I don’t give a shit about what you want. I want my son back.”

“I’ll find him, Sixan.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“The police are doing what they can, and your father—”

“The police? It was the police who let that lunatic get away,” she says angrily. “They’re not going to do anything to find Benjamin.”

“Josef is a serial killer. The police want to find him, and they will. But I’m not stupid. I know Benjamin isn’t important, they don’t care about him, not really, not like us, not like—”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Joona Linna explained—”

“But it’s his fault! He’s the one who got you to carry out the hypnosis.”

Erik shakes his head, then swallows hard. “It was my decision.”

“My father will do everything he can,” she says quietly.

“I understand that you’re angry with me. But right now we need to put that aside. I want us to go through every little detail together. We need to think carefully, and we need to be calm.”

“What the fuck can you and I do?” she cries.

Silence. Erik hears someone switch on the television in the room next door. “We need to think,” he says cautiously. “I’m not sure it was Josef Ek who actually—”

“You’re not right in the head,” Simone snaps. She tries to get out of bed but hasn’t the strength.

“Can I just say one thing?”

“I’m going to get myself a gun, and I’m going to find him,” she says.

“The front door was open two nights in a row, but—”

“That’s what I said!” she screams. “I said that someone was in the apartment, but you didn’t believe me, you never do! If only you had believed me then—”

Erik cuts her off. “Listen to me,” he says. “The front door may have been open two nights in a row, but Josef Ek was in his hospital bed the first night, so he can’t have been in our apartment then.”

Simone is not listening; she is still trying to get up. Groaning angrily, she manages to make it as far as the narrow closet containing her clothes. Erik stands there without helping her, watches her tremble as she gets dressed, hears her swear quietly to herself.

44

saturday, december 12: evening

It is evening by the time Erik finally manages to get Simone discharged from the hospital. When they return home, the apartment is a complete mess. Bedclothes lie in the hallway, the lights are on, the bathroom tap is running, shoes are heaped on the hall rug, and the telephone has been thrown on the parquet floor, its batteries beside it.

Erik and Simone look around with the horrible feeling that something in their home is lost to them forever. These objects have become alien, meaningless.

Simone picks up an overturned chair, sits down, and begins to pull off her boots. Erik turns off the bathroom tap, goes into Benjamin’s room, and looks at the red-painted surface of the desk. Textbooks lie next to the computer, covered in grey paper to protect them. On the bulletin board is a photograph of Erik from his time in Uganda, smiling and sunburned, his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. Erik brushes his hand over Benjamin’s jeans, hanging on the back of a chair with his black sweater.

In the living room he finds Simone standing with the telephone in her hand. She pushes the batteries back in and begins to dial a number.

“Who are you calling?”

“Dad,” she replies.

“Can you please leave it for now?”

She allows him to take the telephone from her. “What is it you want to say?” she asks wearily.

“I can’t cope with seeing Kennet, not now.” He places the telephone on the table, and runs his hands over his face before he begins again. “Can’t you respect the fact that I don’t want to leave everything I have in your father’s hands?”

“Can’t you respect the fact that—”

“Stop it.”

She glares angrily at him.

“Sixan, I’m finding it difficult to think clearly right now. Please let’s not play the game where we match each other, grievance for grievance. I don’t have the energy. I only want to say that I can’t cope with having your father around.”

“Are you finished?” she says, holding out her hand for the phone.

“This is about our child,” he says.